


Dusk in midnight’s embrace

by Xernia



Series: Devil prince Ranboo AU [1]
Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Abandonment, Amnesia, Been working on this bad boy for nearly four days, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Bonding, Gen, Good Friend Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), I have done a SHIT TON, I tried to do a thing with the 7 deadly sins, I tried to make it in character as much as I can, Implied Neglect, Kinda of played it inaccurately sorry for that, My limit is usually 2000 - 3000, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Ranboo Needs a Hug (Video Blogging RPF), as you can see, he knows the future and is set to change it the best he can, it's pretty obvious, no romantic relationships, see if you can spot some
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-17 19:09:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28730214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xernia/pseuds/Xernia
Summary: “Do...do you do that often? Forget?” Eret asks softly, reaching out and placing his hand on Ranboo’s free one, which was curled up into a tight fist, resting against his knee.“Anterograde amnesia. I’ve had it all my life and I forget everything so easily. The only time I can keep a memory is when it’s important and emotional. I don’t want to forget you. I don’t want this to go away. I don’t want this to be a fading memory - where I’m stuck on my identity and my status.” He wants to say, he wants to be honest.“Bad memory.” Ranboo says instead, a bubble of laughter nervously in his chest, chuckling as he places his fingers near his mouth, wanting to cover it from the lies he’s just spoken. He doesn’t like cursing, he doesn’t like lying, yet here he was.__Devil prince Ranboo changes the future because he can and he will. Or at least, that's what he hopes before he forgets again.
Relationships: Eret & Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), Floris | Fundy & Ranboo, Niki | Nihachu & Ranboo, Ranboo & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Ranboo & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Ranboo & Wilbur Soot, Technoblade & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: Devil prince Ranboo AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2106168
Comments: 10
Kudos: 164





	Dusk in midnight’s embrace

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I AM NOT A PSYCHOLOGIST. This is NOT how Anterograde amnesia works, I just altered it to match the story. Basically, Ranboo only remembers emotional events most of the time, sometimes he remembers small bits of something else. This is no where accurate to the actual thing. Don't use this as a guide, trust me. My writing is very non-linear so good fuckin luck.

Patting down his suit, he takes a deep sigh, allowing his lungs to fill with polluted and disgustingly dangerous fumes like it was fresh air. The old air conditioner rattled and creaked behind him, hanging just out the window. He frowns, shaking his head and lightly slapping his cheeks as he tries to frown, to seem more intimidating.

But no matter how angry Ranboo looked in the dirty cracked mirror caked with a thin layer of brown dust, he had a baby face. Even with his threatening golden enchanted helmet, he didn’t look like someone to be scared. Nothing like Technoblade, the one bathed in blood.

He just looked like a baby with two different colored hair colors on each side, black on the right and white on the left. With huge heterochromic eyes on each respective side, a lime green on the right to frame his white hair and pinkish red on the right for the black side.

Ranboo huffs, taking off the helmet carefully and readjusting his white gloves and the cuff of his suit, tilting his head and frowning even more. Now he looked like a kicked puppy, upset over the fact that he didn’t seem scary at all.

The only thing that was probably scary was the fact that he was nearly just as tall to get out of the mirror’s reflection.

“Scary…” Ranboo drags the helmet on the counter, trailing over his tattered mortel bed and collapses face forward on it. His fingers still curl in the helmet’s crust, but he’s not gripping it as tightly.

He rolls over, bringing up the helmet and holding it up in the air, “How do I be scary?” He asks himself, to the helmet as if it’ll give him an answer. It of course doesn’t say anything, instead it seems to mock him with the lightly tint, indicating that it had enchantments.

The rain enchantment, where it avoided getting rain on himself when he got outside.

He lets it drop on the floor, letting it clatter with a noisy clang, on the weak and cruddy floor. He covers his eyes and sighs sadly.

Oh how he’d give anything… Just to be like them.

* * *

Donning the helmet, he wanders the rainy slums of the town he stumbled upon, glancing around with a childish glee in his eyes. The city between, where no nations had any bad will, where there were no political gains or territory disputes.

It was the perfect place to watch.

Keenly aware of his cow-like tail swinging lowly under his black and white poncho, he looks forward to where he’s heading while keeping it safely hidden. There’s a stupid smile that keeps coming on his face after a while - and even if he tried to wipe it - it just came back but even wider.

It can’t be helped. When you see or think about something or someone you admire, doesn’t it get your heart pumping? The idea of passion, of war and strategies were so cool, you can’t help but keep imagining different ideas about it?

Like what would have happened if Tommy had won the disc war? What would the future be like - would Dream have left L’manberg alone?

Ranboo skipped merrily down the street, humming a familiar tune of a great nation just three thousand blocks away from him! Honestly he can’t believe it...!

He can’t believe he’s actually made it here…! Made it to the story that would make books! History as he breathed fresh human air! He really can’t believe he made it here! He’s been dreaming about this for years, writing scenarios and ideas on what he would do if he was president or if he was Dream.

To be fair… Ranboo looked at the crumbling city around him, tucking his white gloved hands into his pockets, he wasn’t particularly there yet. He was a good distance away from L’manberg. He wouldn’t be getting too close into the nation.

Yet. He’s glad he’s gotten this far without giving up. Afraid of his own shadow of who he was becoming.

His boots, jet black with a temper, splash violently against the heavy puddles. They’re good quality so it doesn't soak through, but they splashy splash into the air. His heart swells in pride, just for a moment.

He’s never done this before.

It's like a giddy feeling, like a part of his childhood that he never had. To be allowed to splash carelessly like this, without any fear or exceptions.

It’s a lot exciting in person when he’s allowed to do this. And not when he's watching from the sidelines.

“This is nice.” Ranboo says to himself, quietly as he squats down, leaning on his heels against an empty toy store, just under the shade as he watches the rain fall effortlessly from the sky. His cap was still on his head, his umbrella, however, tilted down to the ground, dipping just in the water.

And it was. He’s never been able to come out like this, outside on top and breathe the freshly earthly air. The soil and the clay, grounds that shaped earth into an orbital shape, the things that humans walked on. Soil…

Soil was nice, grainy and soft, way softer than the rocks down there. He likes how, when it’s dry, it still sticks onto his fingers. He likes the little black beetles that dart away towards the grass and the slight way the sun kisses the tip side of the green grass. Soft and lush, it truly was soft on the surface.

...

Why did he come out here again…?

Ranboo frowns slightly, grabbing the right side of his head and sighing deeply. What was he doing here? Why did he go out in the middle of the night? This was a really stupid move, to go outside without any goal in mind.

He got lost in his thoughts, he was… he was…?

Inwardly, he curses his short term memory loss, it’s a condition that he’s always had. Even if it was literally seconds, it would slip his mind. He’s thankful for the things he does remember sometimes. And it's always has to do with strong memories, with lots of emotions. He remembers those the most.

He remembers L'manberg and the war.

“Hello?”

Ranboo looks up with wide eyes, looking up at a kind woman he’s seen on the screens. In the videos of the war of L’manberg, Niki is offering her hand to him. She’s the vice-leader, one of the soldiers of the nation. Here, she was dressed in casual clothing, reaching out with such a soft expression. Long blond hair framed her face as perfect as a peach.

Her warm brown eyes could look right through him, he quickly averted his eyes, “Are you lost? Do you need help?”

It’s vastly different from the videos where he would see those eyes alight with fire, angry of betrayal, of twisted intentions of men and monsters alike. Where she would draw her sword, hissing for Dream or Wilbur to stand down before she struck them down if need be.

What made her so admirable was her soft nature, yet her resilient determination to make something of herself was nothing short of brave.

“Ah, uhm.” Ranboo gratefully takes her hand, and they both rise, although he towers over her, he’s always been taller than his peers, “I’m not sure where I was at, I don’t… I can’t remember what I was going to do.”

“Well, I could kind of tell you were new here.” Niki grins at him, leaning over him and taking off his gold helmet, replacing it with a leather one, “You shouldn’t be showing off any gold around here. They tend to jump you if you’re a rich fellow.”

“Rich?” He mumbles, taking back his helmet, he mindlessly reaches for the new one, feeling the soft flesh of cows in his fingertips, “I’ll keep that in mind…”

Was he rich for having a gold helmet? Armor seemed essential it seemed. It was useful, if he was being honest.

“I’m Niki.” She takes his hand and shakes it firmly, she tilts her head to the right, “What’s your name?”

Ah that’s right, this was their first meeting wasn’t it? Act casual, like he didn’t watch her lifespan from birth to death.

“Ranboo.” He smiles kindly back.

And it’s the way the rain lightens up and the street lamps light up. Maybe it’s the way the light glints softly against her blond hair, making it shimmer and gleam.

Maybe. This was fate. A sign he can do something here, where he can help change the future from it’s disastrous path.

* * *

The thing about this is the fact that he has to remember that he absolutely knows none of these people and it’s their first meeting. So he shouldn’t know their names but he knows because he can’t just remove hundreds and thousands of years of watching these people make history.

Down there, he watched footage against footage of the people in the past, evaluating their lives and making sure their mark gets written down. They say in history, where it lies and where it leads. And he’s been a fan of them for so long, admiring how brave and clever there were.

And how they deserved a better ending than the one that they got.

L’manberg was a pretty city. With spruce cabins and heart flags that hung from the walls. Smooth railways that led up to them, a little marketplace. Everything was brown and a bit cold, close to maybe the arctic? But it never snowed here.

Which he’s a bit grateful for, since ice and snow turned into water.

And water to him was so abnormal.

He knows it’s taboo to try to change the future, because that’s already cemented into the ground but he can’t help it when Niki smiles so brightly and Tommy’s cackling laugh can be heard within the walls, accompanied with Tubbo’s sweet little chuckle beside it.

When Wilbur’s eyes were still filled up with hope for a future, for a nation, for several other things. For a happy ending he wanted his nation to lead to - because it’s what L’manberg was, to make things free. For them to have freedom.

So he has to remember, for the sake of story consistency, that this is the first time he meets them.

“Hello Wilbur.” He messes up immediately, upon the first encounter, “It’s nice to meet you for the first time.”

Ranboo had just been walking when he saw the leader, smiling and sitting down at a bench. He had his eyes closed and was enjoying the soft autumn breeze. It was at the market and the sun was up - and he didn’t think. He found himself walking to him and immediately greeting him.

It was just a day after Niki proclaimed that he could live here, in these empty houses that no one occupied. It wasn’t as bustily as it was in the future, because it was still just starting out. Wilbur had accepted his request in living here - but he never actually met Wilbur.

“I-I mean, I’ve always been a huge fan!” He quickly tries to add, chuckling nervously while grabbing the back of his neck. His fingers lightly curl around it, “I mean who hasn’t heard of Wilbur Soot, the man who brought it’s nation into something so cool!”

Wilbur was a tall lanky man that wore his uniform proudly. His easygoing smile didn’t match his devilishly handsome brown eyes, with his brown hair framing his head, tucked neatly underneath his navy blue beanie.

Thank god this arc was before the damn Eret betrayal scene, because Wilbur just chuckles affectionately, bringing the back his knuckles to his lips, “Aw… Has word of me gotten that far out already?”

Wilbur was the charismatic leader of L’manberg. A man with great ambitions but sadly a weak drive. He tended to let the moment sweep him away, bashful when someone recognized his efforts. A small pet project he picked up, to make a nation, just for fun, to build his little family.

Little did he know, he would go down into history as one of the most influential leaders or a new era.

One of constant betrayal that would lead nowhere. A nation to rot away from the ground - to build up only to fall again. But humans were very resilient, he knew that much at least. And he knew that these ones in particular were very strong.

They never gave up at least. Even when their leader is led astray, even though there was no hope and there was nothing to even think of fighting for…

They never gave up.

Maybe that’s why Ranboo admired humans so much.

* * *

Ranboo was always a pacifist. He wasn’t particularly fond of violence. He liked it when everyone was together and talking. He liked it when the dead came down to hell and talked to him about his experiences and stories from above.

He liked how history was written on earth, in the land between hell and heaven. It felt magical, it felt so sad and he was unfortunately an empath, someone who understood emotions more strongly than anyone he knew.

The cry baby devil prince. Split hair and watery dual eyes, filled with unwavering emotions. Someone who liked peace rather than violence, who didn’t like to curse or do anything bad.

He liked rules. They were neat and orderly - no one had to fight. Chaos and war was just messy. Messy relationships and complicated feelings that had no sense. A complete opposite of an ideal future leader of hell.

It didn’t help that he had a cow-like tail too. In a place of death and decay, where the damned souls thrived, he was a symbol of fertility and life in that rotting hole. Cows were…

Really cute…

Ranboo sighed dreamily, his mind wandering off to the cute cow Tommy had loved before it was murdered. He liked how even past death, he could see records of people’s lives. Slowly cut into pieces, like in footage where he could watch. He loved how much Tommy adored Henry, often feeding him hay and hugging him deeply when he thought no one was looking.

Tommy really adored that cow when they were alive. Before the reckoning, before the bad things happened.

History was made, but at what cost?

Quills moved against the parchment, recording history as they knew it. Something in the past, yet that piece of history was the best one in the entire world. The only one that caught his eye.

“Are you sure you’re off?” His good friend that always stuck by him stands right beside him as the young prince huffs, shrugging on his jacket. He takes his gold armor, throwing it in his inventory as he side glances Bad, “No, seriously! You can’t be serious about leaving, you muffin! What would he think?” 

Bad was his friend, always a constant warmth by his side. Perhaps he wasn’t as brutal as all the others, but he was sure strict, often screaming out language and dishing out justice when things were wrong. He loved creating chaos, as he found it therapeutic for his soul.

He always wore his red and black hood religiously, tucked in with a black belt around his waist. His tail was more of a traditional devil tail, with a red spade at the end of it. His eyes were a pure white, he had no pupil so sometimes it was hard to tell what he was looking at.

“You act like I care about his opinion.” Ranboo shoots back just as swiftly, casually leaning forward to grab his backpack, “If anything, I think he’d like me out of here since I’m a shame to the devil’s name.”

Bad deflates, hesitant and looking up with a sense of caution, “You’re planning on changing the future… aren’t you? You can’t think that’s a good idea… can you? You’re trying to change the foundation of the world and it isn’t right!”

“I know.” Ranboo walks forward, developing his good friend with a hug, resting his chin on his shoulder. His tail flicks, even Bad’s tail sways back and forth adorably at the warmth, “But the way they had to end things just didn’t seem right to me - I have to do something.”

“I’m sorry Bad.” The dual-haired male smiles with ease, softly as he pulls back and gives him the most apologetic look, “I promise to come visit sometimes. I promise.”

His friend huffs, his arms finally wrapping around the tall prince’s waist, “You better, you muffin.”

* * *

Tommy and Tubbo were always a handful, he knew that already - so why was he surprised?

“Tommy! Tubbo!” Ranboo hung upside-down by his ankle, resting by the tree. He kicks wildly, crying out when the rope pulls just a bit higher, sending a rush though his head, “Aaaaa, wait no! Let’s talk about this!”

A small brown haired boy with cobalt eyes turns into his vision with his arms behind his back. He was wearing a dark green shirt with short sleeves and his expression was one of curiosity. A face of innocence, filled with the spirit of a prankster.

Kids. Were always the biggest threat to society.

“We caught a turkey!” Tubbo says with a shocked expression. He clearly didn’t expect it to work but he was smiling sinisterly with his rosy cheeks. He throws his hands up, running around and circling around the tree with both of his hands thrown up, “Turkey! Turkey!” He cheers childishly.

“I- No, I am not a turkey!” He cried out in response, flailing around, “Oh jeez, I’m going to get nauseous, I’m not equipped for this, bleh, Oh god..”

Tommy was a spirit of a thousand warriors. A fight in his eyes and a smirk of justice. He knows better than anyone on how to rally people up to his cause. He’s always wearing his heart on his sleeve, always willing to help but never receiving it back in the end.

“You’re a turkey now, bitch!” Tommy swivels in front of him, his hand tightly holding the rope. He matches Tubbo’s smile and starts tugging the rope and letting go, making it go into a seesaw motion. Rambo pales, shaking his head, “Look Tubbo, he’s turning green!”

“It won’t match his hair! It matches poison, should we feed him poison?” Tubbo snickers playfully, leaning forward and brushing a stray strand away from his face, “Are you immune to poison too?”

“You children!” Ranboo hisses, yelping when Tommy raises an eyebrow and yanks on it once, “Wuasi!!!” He yelps intelligently, throwing a hand to his mouth, “Just because I told you I was immune to most things doesn’t mean I’m immune to everything! Stoooop!”

“You’re weird! You come out of nowhere and have weird eyes, hair and tail!” Tubbo chirps, “It’s sorta cool but you have to go through initiation!”

“I didn’t agree to anything!!!” Ranboo whines, shaking his head, “What is initiation and why do I feel threatened! Harassment!” He screams, swinging back and forth on the rope as Tommy playfully tugs it again, “Stoooop!”

But he actually doesn’t want to stop. He likes to consider himself as a good actor as he watches from his position Tubbo grinning from ear to ear, leaning in when Tommy whispers something. But his whispering is so loud, he can basically hear his whole plan on how they were going to take Niki’s makeup to cake him in it.

Kids were the menace to society, yes, he will admit. But it didn’t mean he had to treat them as one.

* * *

“Tommy and Tubbo.” Niki tapped her foot as he stared down at the two kids, who were on their knees looking down at the ground. Ranboo is behind them, caked in white and black paste, blinking innocently at the angry pretty lady.

“Did you torture Ranboo with my makeup?”

“No, we just borrowed it.” Tommy sputters, looking up, “Nicely taking it.”

“Without my permission.”

“Borrowed.” _Tommy._

“Without telling me.”

“Nicely.” _Tommy please._

“Tommy.” Niki scowls at him, “Did you kidnap him then force the makeup on him?”

“It’s fine Niki!” Ranboo pipes in, grinning softly, “I’ll pay for it, it’s all in good fun, don’t worry!”

“That isn’t…” Niki sighs tiredly, pinching the bridge of her nose, “That isn’t the problem, Ranboo.”

Ranboo tilts his head quizzily, “It’s not?”

“No it’s really not.” The female knight shakes her head, standing above them again. She places a hand on her hips, “You can play with each other but don’t drag anyone after hanging them upside down. You pulled him around and put makeup on him despite him saying no, huh?”

“What’s wrong with that!” Tommy shoots back, standing up and going up to her chest level. He copies her movement, placing his hands firmly on his waist, “He was okay, he didn’t complain!”

“He’s new to L’manberg, you’re supposed to be nice to him, not drag him along to do pranks!” Niki scolds, wagging her finger in his face, “You could have asked him if he wanted to play, not take him as a hostage!”

“Well how was I supposed to say that!? I don’t know him!” Tommy screams, throwing down his hands and allowing them to ball into fists, “I can’t just ask someone to come play, now can I? I’m not a child - stop treating me like one!”

“Then stop acting like one!”

“I’m fourteen! I am literally three years younger than you!” Tommy covers his ears, stomping away. He leans down and yanks up Tubbo, sticking out his tongue and slipping out the door. Tubbo kept his head down. He pops up briefly, just before he’s out the door to give Ranboo an apologetic look.

Ranboo smiled, “It’s really fine, Niki.” He reaches out, patting Niki’s shoulder gently, “I don’t mind, I like playing with kids. It’s really fine.”

“That’s…! That’s not the issue-” The blond haired woman sighs, shaking her head, “You’re going to get taken advantage of. Tommy’s a kid and so is Tubbo, this whole nation is filled with children. They don’t know the difference between right and wrong.”

“That’s why it’ll be nice if we taught them, right?” He clasped his hands together, holding her hands in between them, “It’s best if we understood our future generation rather than belittle them. It’s okay Niki.”

_“I promise.”_

* * *

Spruce wood was the superior wood. Ranboo had a full stack and then some all tucked away in his inventory. He slips his diamond axe out again and begins mining for more. He aims up and thankfully he’s rather tall, so it’s easy to cut down the tippy top.

Today, he was hanging out with Tommy, mining wood for Tubbo’s house with him. He planned to get some wood for the eventual bee farm that Tubbo was making, but then he also saw Tommy here, so why not kill two birds with one stone?

Plus, his dual colored eyes spotted red and colorful floral just beyond the hill - Niki could use some flowers too. He walks past Tommy, brushing past him lightly as he picks some flower, of all colors. A nice pop and a change of pace for her new bakery she was still building.

_(A small part of him wanted to be the first customer, just to see her smile.)_

“Oi.” Ranboo pauses, craning his head around to see Tommy glaring daggers at him for some reason. He turns around, standing up to his height as he tilts his head at the blond questioningly. He wordlessly points above him, and Ranboo follows his gaze.

There’s a single wooden log still stuck in the leaves. He sees Tommy huff, jumping up and down to try to break it but it remains just out of reach. Did he need help?

“Do you need help?” Ranboo questions, already pulling out his axe.

“I don’t need nobody’s help.” Tommy mutters grumpily, but gratefully takes the log and runs off to cut the next tree. Ranboo shakes his head, a smile still on his lips. A prideful kid, even though he doesn't like to ask for help - he can see the quirk of his lips when he takes the log.

He’s not sure what having little siblings was like - but it seemed like Tommy didn’t like asking for help or apologizing. Maybe he thought it made him weak? It wasn’t any of his business, he wasn’t a therapist, but he does think that he should grow out of it.

Pride was a dangerous thing.

Pride is what drove Wilbur into bombing his own nation he built from the ground up. Pride is what drove Technoblade to madness. Pride is what drove Dream to-

…

Ranboo was holding a fistful of purple lilacs. His inventory was filled with wood and flowers, so many flowers too! They would look nice on Niki, maybe in her hair?

* * *

The story goes like this: Philza Minecraft, a fallen angel from heaven graced earth with his presence. He devoured land and adopted anyone in it. Carefully, he takes great care of his family, Technoblade and Wilbur Soot. Twin siblings with a sense of justice, just in another twisted sense.

Technoblade wanted blood. Loyal or not, it never mattered as long as he had a sense of what to do. He didn’t like rules. He hated feeling weak, he had to protect those who were dear to him. His brother, his father, and maybe a piglin. He was chained by his own beliefs, sticking to what he believed was right. And that was Anarchy.

No wars. No pain. No gain. Just one big happy family.

So he followed Philza, taking over any empire that dared opposing them. Wilbur was stuck at home, safely hidden while the duo went and purged the land of sinners. Tucked away like a rotting secret in his heart.

Blood for the blood god.

The two were a well oiled machine, both clearly not human. One was a pig, loyal and blood-ridden. The voices of the damned tormented him, yet he moved on with stride. Philza was simply thrown out by the idea of defying the clouds.

Philza was a fallen angel, disgraced from the clouds. With a heartwarming kindness and endless love for his family - he was nothing short of merciful. He believed in their cause, justice to those who deserve it.

And Wilbur...

Well, he was alone, wasn’t he?

Safely hidden away, human because he couldn’t do anything. Philza and Techno were too busy destroying other nations, empires, estates. Too focused on the government. On how it was wrong, on how it corrupted people in the end.

And that’s precisely why he made L’manberg. The very thing the two swore to destroy, a nation with no bounds.

Wilbur was by no means bitter. And he doesn’t give a damn if he was the odd one out of the family. He didn’t care that he was human, no he didn’t care at all. He wasn’t weak. He wasn’t! Just because he wasn’t as good at fighting like Techno or Philza - doesn’t mean he’s weak.

Words spoke louder than violence. And this was a statement to bring them home, damn it!

He just wanted his dad. His brother. His family.

He made the very thing his family was going to destroy. Because maybe he wanted them there. Maybe he wanted to have a reason to fight, a reason to exclaim that he could be something! Just because he was human, just because his body is weaker - doesn’t mean he’s weak!

Sure… it was a nation of kids. Tommy, Tubbo and Fundy were still new, Niki just recently became an adult. Ranboo was a sweet kid, he’s sure that he was going to fit just fine in their little family.

It’s not like anyone would attack L’manberg, not with his brother’s bloodthirsty streak.

And if Philza wasn’t going to be there. If Techno was too busy to care. Then he was going to be the best dad there was in this little safe pocket of theirs. Their little town, their little empire.

Their little nation, made from the ground up, would be the family he always dreamed about.

* * *

…

What was he doing here again?

Ranboo stood in the middle of L’manberg, staring mutely at the tree, the grounding tree that stood in the middle of the area. He shuffles nervously, shifting his feet and staring up at the leaves, at the red apple, hanging from the branch.

He shuffles his feet again.

He really hates this. Feeling so lost and confused. He can’t remember what he was doing. It fades away so quickly, once he sets his mind on something. He’s holding a few golden flowers, it’s wrapped in a light green sheet, wrapped neatly and so perfectly.

Were these for Niki? Golden flowers would look nice on her. Like a little golden crown. But they were upright, not woven correctly.

Ranboo sits down, crossing his legs and taking out the flowers one by one. He begins to weave them together, wrapping them securely with the other green arts and eventually it turns into a crown. Soft petals brush against his fingers.

“Hey.” Fundy peeks around the tree, “Are you ready to come visit Sally’s grave?”

Oh.

_Oh god._

“Yeah.” Ranboo shrugs himself up, holding out the crown, “Do you think she’ll like it?” He asks quietly. It’s not perfect by any means, it’s broken and disfigured. His fingers must have folded it wrong because it had some missing petals.

Fundy however, returns the smile, “Yeah dude, she’ll love it.”

They walk in silence, he falls slightly behind Fundy with a solemn face, watching as the grey grave shows up, erupting from the ground. There’s a few flowers there, all different colors, this would be the only splash of yellow in the mix.

Fundy sits down beside it, gently taking the crown from the prince’s hand and placing it on the right side of her grave. He places something down, so that it crushes a portion - but only so that the wind wouldn’t take it away.

Ranboo keeps his mouth shut, in respect of the dead.

“She was my Mum, you know. I call her Sally but I always thought it was a pretty name when I was younger. So I just called her that.” Fundy says quietly, faintly, just a whisper of the wind, “She taught me how to swim and hunt when Wilbur was away…”

Fundy looks so small, he’s always been significantly smaller than the other kids, although he ate just as heartily. He had orange hair, tied in a ponytail that draped over his shoulder. Vern green vest covered his white shirt and a similar colored newspaper hat topped his head.

His eyes were a shimmering light blue, almost greyish and brimming with tears as he looked on at the silent grave.

The only sound that could be heard was the small sniffle and the rustling of the wind, of grass brushing against one another. The sky was purple with not a cloud in sight.

Ranboo places a hand on Fundy’s shoulder, still quiet as Fundy shakes, shaking his head.

“He’s a good dad, don’t get me wrong!” Fundy jumps to his defense, but the grit of his teeth gives it away, “I just wish he was here more often…”

Really, this was Wilbur’s fault. While he was a great leader, he had endless responsibilities. Registering people for houses and ensuring that the food stock was still good. Meeting around with local merchants to ensure sales and increase the treasury - he never had time for him or any of his people.

He solely focused on the materialistic gains before he focused on the emotional needs of others.

But he knows that this whole nation was built just for him actually. It started on Wilbur trying for a family - then realizing that a community could be healthy for his child’s enrichment. It was him trying, in his own way - the only way he knows.

“He cares about you Fundy.” Ranboo mutters, so it’s like a secret just between the two of them, “He’s just busy, but I know that he loves you to death.”

“Yeah…” Fundy whispers, curling in more, “I sure hope so…”

* * *

The story goes like this: Philza Minecraft is fucking trying okay. He’s tired, he was just thrown out of the clouds for reasons he doesn’t know. He eats golden carrots and food from wherever because even he’s not sure how he came to acquire the land.

But here he was and now he was king.

He’s taken this land and he’s not sure why or how the hell he did it - yet here he was.

Golden hair, the golden bridge was always burning. Chaos.

The twin gods of blood were reborn.

Maybe that’s why he’s here.

They look up at him with wide eyes, completely unaware of the chaos brewing in their souls. Deep inside was an insatiable lust for blood, a desire to find a right setting in the world. A human and a Demigod, matched together by their hand markings.

One was a pink haired child with sharp piglin ears, his golden eyes seemed almost red in the dawn’s light. He had gold pierced into his ears and a bite mark off the left one. He had a marking of a pig on his right hand and the desire for justice was written all over his heart.

The other was a brown haired human child with sharp brown eyes. A human at best, tucked behind his brother with a poor wooden knife, half shaven. He was mostly okay, save for the burned numbers on his neck, branded like a cow. He had a bird on his left hand, red scarring.

Were they… child soldiers?

He swoops down with his grey wings, landing in front of them as they take a big step back. The pink haired one holds out his arm, almost protecting the smaller one from moving forward. Older one perhaps? The piglin raises his chin defiantly, holding the sword securely pointedly at the man.

Philza would step closer if it weren’t for the sword pointed right at his neck.

He watches as the human whispers something in his brother’s ear, making him lower the sword in response, but still having it within an arm’s reach. The pink haired one keeps his eyes on him, but he can’t help but notice how it always falls down to his wings with a sense of curiosity.

It’s kind of cute.

“... You’re not human. Or a devil. You have wings, an angel perhaps?” The brown haired one asked, leaning out and peering at the adult winged person with cautious eyes, “I’m Wilbur Soot. This is Technoblade.”

The pink haired one, Technoblade snorts testily, stomping his feet and glaring over his shoulder. He seemed displeased.

“He seems nice. He won’t hurt us.” Wilbur tries to ease, reaching over and patting his head, he watches as the golden eyes melt slightly, almost leaning into the fuzzy feeling. “See? Look how gentle he is, you can’t say that he’s dangerous if he’s almost cooing at you.”

Techno huffs, stepping away and crossing his arms after he puts away his sword. He hasn’t said anything yet. He glares at him with distrust and uneasiness. Ready to jump in if Philza even looked at his brother in any threatening way..

And the other, Wilbur, was simply human. One that wasn’t at all scared of him, but rather looks at him with mild interest. It’s unfitting for a small child, let alone a human. There was…

Something unsettling about it.

“An angel? Meeting us from between?” Wilbur smiles gleefully, tilting his head as he surges forward, there’s a glint in his eyes.

“How interesting.”

* * *

“Scary…” Ranboo’s in the mirror of his little cabin, his little house in L’manberg. He adjusts his suit and slaps the side of his face again, trying to glare but failing to do so. He just can’t glare on command, he can’t.

“How can I be…” He frowns, letting out a deep sigh, a large outburst of air, “Maybe I’m doing this wrong.”

It’s a small room but it’s much cleaner than the motel room. The floors were spruce and wooden pillars towered the room. There was plenty of storage and places to mine, the water wasn’t as murky as the one in there.

Water was dangerous, so he tended to use it as scarcely as possible. It was the one thing scary from earth that he just couldn’t get over.

He enjoyed splashing in puddles if his boots were thick enough. When he had go out, he had his dual colored poncho, golden helmet, and his umbrella with him at any possible chance of rain. It was fun. When he didn't touch it.

He covers his face, rubbing it up and down aggressively, it was so hard to think when things are easy. When the world was peaceful, everyone was at ease - there was nothing to worry about.

Or so the human’s thought.

But Ranboo knew, he had exactly two years before Dream’s awakening. He had two years to get L’manberg ready the best he can, to see them live another story. They can’t be surprised - they can’t be caught off guard.

It’s hard, because he keeps forgetting what to do in the first place. He’s not sure where to start a rebellion for a war that didn’t even start yet. The mere thought was baffling, so of course it was just him planning it.

“Hey dickhead!”

Ranboo freezes entirely as something wet and heavy hits him on his left side, right where the door was. It bursts on impact and water splashes against him. It’s surreal and unnatural against his skin, so he remains still in shock, too parlyzed to do anything.

It’s not like it hurts. It doesn’t burn but it’s so unusual, it’s so weird and he wants to throw up. It makes his stomach roll. He falls to his knees and cradles his head, tucking it in a small positioning.

He tries to breathe.

In the corner of his eye, he sees Tommy toss another one carelessly in the air, smirkingly confidently as he catches it again. However, his smile immediately drops as he lets the other balloon fall to the ground, “Oh fuck- Are you alright? Ranboo?”

He can’t breathe. Every single breath he tries to take in is just a slower one, it’s taking forever to get fresh air in. The coldness burns the back of his throat, he can’t get enough. The light was too bright and the air was too scratchy and cold. And he was wet and freezing, his hair still dripped water, there’s water touching his shoes, from where Tommy was.

Unnatural.

“Ranboo!” Tommy grabs his shoulders firmly, trying to pull him up, “Ranboo, what’s wrong!?”

Ranboo stays still. Staying still made the water slosh less, it didn’t touch his skin as much. It just remained in a constant state, slowly dripping off his body. He didn’t have to move, he was as still as a stone.

“Shit… Shit!” Tommy sputters, taking a step back. He turns around, “I’ll get Niki! Stay right there!”

Okay.

He’s still.

He’s still breathing, he thinks. Nothing is moving. The spruce flooring has a missing nail.

Was he even there anymore?

.

.

.

“Ranboo.” Niki’s soft quiet voice floats to his ears, but he remains unresponsive, still curled up in a small fetal position. His hands squeeze over his head, pushing down on his head, as if it’ll protect him from something as inevitable as water.

A hand reaches out, carefully placing it on his. The warmth feels nice, compared to everything else - everything felt cold. He focuses on that hand. It’s firm, human flesh. He had human flesh too. He doesn’t have that long of nails though, they tap against his knuckles softly.

“Breathe with me. Here, follow my taps.” Her nails tap against the spruce slowly, he sees it in his view, just slightly. Niki’s pinky hits the spruce first, followed by the other three in a rhythmic pattern.

Her nails were a nice black, painted with an orange X though the middle. It looked nice on her, it looked really nice.

He should get his nails done too.

He’d like to forget now.

He’d like to forget now.

He’d like to forget now.

But the water was a constant. A different contrast, something that stuck onto his clothing and he can-

“Come on Ranboo.” Niki stresses, her grip a bit tighter, “Breathe with me, don’t stop now, you were doing so good.”

“Here.” A heavy blanket, his blanket? White fluffy covers the majority of him. Tommy bends down, not quite touching him but pressing the blanket down to wipe him down. He stays quiet, it’s uncharacteristic of the main hero to be quiet - but he appreciates it. 

His face was grim, guilty as he frowned down on him. His movements were gentle.

He’s just a kid.

Ranboo unclapses his hand and rests it on Tommy’s knee, the closest thing he could reach. He uses the other one to grab Niki’s fingers in front of him, although he keeps his head down.

He’d like to remember the friends that helped him though this.

* * *

The story goes like this: The blood god never dies. Blood for the blood god, he was the weapon and Wilbur was the brains of the operation. Blood through their veins - It never runs dry.

Technoblade didn’t think, because of the voices always occupying his head. The spirits of the damn plagued him to the point where he would get splitting headaches all the time. Wilbur was the only one that could get through to him, the villagers and the slave owners were so grating - he wanted to cut them all down.

Wilbur was the brain and he was the brawns. And if they dared to break them apart, then he’ll make sure to break their spines before using their insides as stew.

Actually. Wilbur hates blood on him, so maybe he’ll do it somewhere else.

But Wilbur, his brother, desires blood just like him. Although his definition of blood is drastically different than his - the human side wanted a family. Technoblade just wanted the voices to shut up, so when he kills, it’s at least one constant phrase.

Blood for the blood god.

Thinking. He hated it but here he was, always thinking of the next thing to do, what to hunt, what to eat.

How to stop Wilbur from ever getting hurt again.

Guilty, he looks at the series of numbers on his neck, hidden just above his red scarf. They’re just six. They’re still referred to as kids, yet they’re the most exploitable. He can’t even talk yet, his words are all garbled but thankfully Wilbur knows how to.

He touches his brother’s neck gently with his brown mitten, causing the other to jump for a moment, then warming up.

“Doesn’t hurt anymore, Techno.” Wilbur assured, reaching out to grab his small gloved hands. They close together, “I’d do it again. I don’t mind it.”

He remembers the raw screams that he made when he threw off their captors and flung himself in Techno’s path. They were going to mark him, he should have been marked but Wilbur-

Wilbur was an idiot, clearly not thinking when he pushed Techno out the way..

Red scarring tissue, red blood and red flesh. The smell of burning flesh, cooking flesh.

Remembers the power rippling through him, swirling in his gut before finally exploding - when it sees his other half, weak and sprawled over the floor.

The smell of burning flesh.

“Armor.” He tries to say, but it’s messed up, too scratchy as he begins taking it off and ushering Wilbur to use it. But the younger twin shakes his head, pushing it back to him.

“No, I don’t need it.” It’s frustrating because Wilbur doesn’t accept it. It’s to protect him, he can’t always be there, why can’t understand…!

“Because I know you’ll always be there.” Wilbur hugs him securely, patting his head.

.

.

.

Technoblade is dressed in a red gown, looking mutely at the arctic snow. Philza is beside him, mindlessly shredding wood to make something, a wooden figurine. There’s nothing out there, just miles of self isolation.

It’s for the best.

He didn’t abandon Wilbur. He didn’t leave his family.

He’s only trying to pave the future for him.

So it’s fine, it’s fine. The voices call out for Wilbur, screaming his name and urging him to contact him. For the pink haired demigod to send a letter but he can’t.

His hands shake and tremble from the chill, but he’s more afraid of Wilbur’s cold gaze when he returns home.

* * *

Dad was never home so he didn’t bother,

An idealistic slaughter was one that was never arbored.

Ranboo didn’t have a traumatic past. He wasn’t loved but he wasn’t hated either. Down in hell, he was just there. A supposed heir to the throne with no idea on what to do. A prince of death, but clearly a symbol of life. His dad didn’t care what the hell he did, so Ranboo did the same.

He just had a status of a prince, but it didn’t mean he was going to be the king of the overworld.

He wasn’t defined by who he was in the past, the only things that mattered was the present and the future. Anything he forgot was yesterday's problem, he was above consequences at this rate.

Ranboo remembers the days where he would try to make father notice him. A sad reminder of who he was, the blood always stains his hands. It’ll always be there. Originally, he just processed souls for the evaluation. Whether they could go to heaven or hell.

Sure, he wasn’t a threat before, he was nowhere scary, and that’s why he always made his work quick and swift. The blood that stained his white gloves would only be one open flesh wound on the neck.

Swift and quick, just like his memories.

He doesn’t regret it. But sometimes he dislikes reverting to this phase, where he can barely hold a memory for longer than two weeks, and the only time they stay is when they’re so memorable. When there’s strong emotions involved.

Being here in L’manberg made him remember most of his memories. So he’s grateful for that.

He found himself slowly reverting back to his old days, as he slams the unknown assassin’s throat against the spruce log. His hand was a death grip, squeezing threateningly as he glared at the hooded figure, right outside of Wilbur’s house.

It was the dead of night. Not even a cricket in sight, they were scared off by whoever this was.

“Who are you.” Ranboo growls slowly, pressing a bit tighter when the assailant tries to wiggle out. His eyes narrowed and used his strength to raise him up, off the floor to his height. His toes barely touched the floor.

…

…? 

Oh he stopped moving? Ranboo frowned under his bangs, slowly lowering the body to the floor. It crumples like a pretzel. He has to keep lowering and gently place him on the floor so he doesn’t get a concussion on top of the fact that he properly just choked out someone.

He lays them spread eagle against the flooring and sighs as he leans on his knee and props his elbow on it to lean on his palm.

Humans were so very stubborn until the end. He remembers when he had to tell the ghosts that they were dead so he could pluck their soul for the reading. In the middle, always unsure if they were alive or dead.

So it came to no surprise that a human had been bold enough to sneak around in a land, rumored to house Technoblade’s baby brother, Wilbur Soot.

Of course, humans were finicky creatures, always changing their beliefs and ideals. Their dreams and inspirations. What title would an unknown assassin gain from murdering the blood god’s only blood relative?

…

Oh dang, wasn’t that Eret?

* * *

Eret grew up where the slums were, in the first town he was in actually. Where the clouds would cry for their sins, the city of rain. The pavements were always a dirty cyan blue, murky with nothing good and everything bad.

It’s the place where he met Niki for the first time, when she asked Ranboo if he was lost.

Used to being used as a child, for pickpocketing or stabbing someone, Eret was always on the move from the law. A fugitive with a baby face, always sporting a pair of black shades and his favorite black heavy duty jacket.

Eret was still rather tall, but there was only air under his clothing. He was all skin and bones, not enough meat on his bones. A street urchin expected to live and live - so he did.

Most likely out of spite, but he wasn’t one to question where one’s motives may lie.

He was heavily near-sighted, unable to see things close to his face or far away, he was so close to being blind. Hidden behind his shades and blinding white smile, Eret was often lost, wandering the streets and doing anything he can survive. He had lost his cane a long time ago, he had no idea how to read or write - he couldn’t even read braille.

So he had no choice, this was the only way to survive and Ranboo doesn’t fault him.

In history, he was regarded as the traitor of L’manberg. Who took Dream’s deal for a greater power, to stop this rebellion - this mess that they were stuck in.

When you give a child promises of something more, of course they’ll explore.

He was roughly the same age as Niki, just turning into an adult when the jobs he received were much more dangerous. He took this one because he thought it would be easy. It was no rumor that Wilbur Soot, the leader of a new nation, wore no armor and he had no emotional attachments to hesitate before he stabbed him.

To him, it was a challenge. The idea of gaining fame that way just seemed exhilarating, exciting. It was easy cash, so there was no way that he could pass this up.

And Ranboo had just choked him out. So he was out here at midnight, with an unconscious assassin, Eret, at his feet.

Oh god how was he going to solve this problem?

He bends down, carefully scooping him up securely, he holds him in a princess carry. His knees were gathered under his arm and he supported his other half with his arm. His head rolls over to his shoulder, resting against it as Ranboo made his way to his house.

He tries to ignore how he can feel his bones from under his baggy black sweatpants.

He’ll tell them in the morning.

* * *

“What the fuck...” Eret mumbles, groggiy from sleep. He rises up, feeling the soft plush blanket over him. He was… tucked in?

It hits him like a damn truck, pressure on his neck, angry red and leering green peering down at him. Oh god. His hands immediately slipped to his neck, feeling soft fabric wrapped around it.

He was caught and thrown in a bed, he was in a bed? Why was he in the bed?

Eret blinks, feeling around when he feels the amazingly soft blanket on top of him, and the plush white pillow behind him. He can hear the crackling of fire and the warmth of the house- he pauses as his hands brush against a blunt object, a person’s skin.

The said person mumbles something quietly, they’re over the bed, curled up at the foot of it and using his arms as a pillow.

Was this… their bed? Did that stranger place him in a bed, their bed, while they slept halfway on the floor and on the bed?

… Why?

Eret frowned immensely, debating on what to do. It didn’t seem like he was in any danger, there were no loud mobs and this place seemed stupidly homey for an assassin. It felt safe.

And safe never lasted.

“Mmm…” The figure moves, unfolding his arms and reaching for something. Eret isn’t sure so he takes the pillow from behind him and hands it over. Instead, it aims for his hands and holds it gently.

If he wanted to, he could easily wiggle it out and leave.

But there was just something so vulnerable of someone, anyone, just allowing someone to sleep in their bed, in a safe and warm place. Reaching out and holding him like he was something precious.

And the person sleeping had no idea he was doing it.

He’ll wait for the person to wake up, then he’ll make his move.

* * *

“...Shouldn't we apologize…?” Tubbo asks half mindedly. He’s wearing yellow gloves and in his gardening ware as he leans in to fix his hives., “We never said sorry when we put make-up on him and it’s clearly eating at you.”

Tommy sat on a cut stump, hands on his face as he looked at the floor. He was wearing the same tan overalls over a green shirt as Tubbo - although his gloves were white. His sky blue eyes looked at the ground regretfully, his teeth gritted.

He can’t get it out of his head.

Ranboo was radiant, the usually towering giant had been all smiles, often helping around L’manberg the best he could. Planting more lovely flowers around Niki’s house or fishing with Fundy. Helping Tubbo build his bee farm (Now automatic with the help of redstone!) and helping Tommy with his house.

Ranboo had been helpful ever since he came to L’manberg.

And a small water balloon had resorted him into a small figure on the ground - so small.

He hadn’t meant it - it was just a way to get him into playing water balloons with him, he had a whole bucket of it, ready to throw it at one another. It was his invitation to play, to drag people out of what they were doing, to come play with him.

His green pupil was shaking when it looked up at him, he was terrified and he was breathing way too fast, he was hyperventilating. He was about to pass out. It wasn’t right.

“Tommy?” Tubbo peeked out, tilting his head in confusion, “You okay?”

Tommy swallowed thickly, leaning down, “Yeah. Yeah, let’s go say we’re sorry.”

“Wait really!?” Tubbo threw himself away from the garden to stare at his best friend like he had grown a second head, “Wait seriously!?”

Tommy scoffs, standing up and brushing off dirt, “You make it seem like I never fuckin appolgize.” He folds his arms as he watches Tubbo run up to him, panting heavily and still staring at him with wide blown eyes.

“That’s cause you don’t!” Tubbo cries out, throwing his hands to his hair, “Last year you literally shoved my face in my birthday cake! I cried for hours Tommy!”

“Listen, Tubbo, I only apologize to women.” Tubbo grabs hand, watching it shake slightly. He frowned but a smile soon graces his lips as he beams up at him.

“You’re so mean! You don’t even apologize to Niki!”

Tommy lets a small smile slip as they make their way back to L’manberg. They’re far, they were getting wood and apples for gapples - along with poppies for Niki’s future bakery. Tubbo had suggested hanging around this place to try to ease their minds - but Tommy knows when he’s in the wrong.

They make their way past the prime path, their heavy boots clang heavily against the wood, making it clear where they were headed. The mud on their boots stuck onto the bottom - Niki was going to be pissed at them again for trailing in dirty stuff.

He lets his hands drag against the rail and they stand quietly outside the door.

“Okay.”

“Okay.” Tubbo mimics playfully, shoving him in the door, “Go, go appolgiz-”

They freeze, their eyes immediately locking onto the stranger wearing dark clothing standing right next to Ranboo’s unconscious body, laying on the bed. He’s holding a bucket of milk. They can’t see his face--

Tubbo draws his sword, he’s a lot quicker as Tommy narrows his eyes, pulling out a slowness potion.

The stranger in question, pulls out a silver dagger, pointing it threateningly at them. He’s as small as them, but he wore heavy baggy clothing. He had a weapon at the ready, to whip out? Was he planning something?? Was he about to kill Ranboo!?

“Who are you!?” Tommy shouts loudly, hoping for anyone passing by to hear it. They were still pretty inexperienced in combat, but they could at least hold their ground. “Hey, answer me!”

He remains silent, his feet positioned as if it was ready to bolt at any moment. He places a finger to his lips, as if urging him to be quiet. He quickly glanced behind him, gesturing to him.

Tubbo let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, Tommy does too once he notices his friend’s chest moving up and down steadily. He was still breathing- thank-

“Tommy now!” Tubbo shouts urgently, startling the stranger AND Tommy into acting. The stranger chugs his milk right as the blond splashes the potion on everyone, particle effects burst around them as the stranger breaks open a window.

The glass shatters, crunching loudly under his shoe as the unknown shady guy slips out, expertly swinging down to the ground level and making his getaway.

“Fuck!” Tommy hisses angrily as he slowly walks over to the broken window. The potion makes him all sluggish, his movements feel like he’s in molasses. He looks outside, his hand gripping the edge of the wood tensely, “He’s gone - who the hell-”

“What’s…” Ranboo rises from the bed, rubbing his eyes, “What’s going on?”

* * *

“So you’re saying.” Wilbur has a tight smile on his face, his eyes were closed as he leans on his desk, his fingertips touching in an open palms, “You don’t remember who this person was. Or why he was in your room. Or who he was?”

Ranboo swallows nervously, grabbing his arms in an anxious manner as he sits in the red long chair, too comfortable to be relaxing when Wilbur looks beyond mad. Even though he was smiling and very calm, he can sense the undeniable bloodthirst behind his smile.

Wrath, his old friend.

The others were easy to dissuade, after Tommy guided him to Wilbur’s office and the infirmary. Niki had rushed over with her motherly embrace and Fundy had a lowered expression. Tubbo jumped at every little movement beside him, hugging onto his arm tightly.

When he mentioned that he couldn’t remember last night, they all laughed it off, clearly not wanting to push it. But they were still wary, cautious and tense, looking at him as if he’ll break. They checked him for injuries, but he already knew he’d have none. His skin wasn’t as fragile as humans.

His skin, although a very similar shade of tan, was actually kind of reptilian. It was harder to stab through it, if it was made of slimy, or seemingly oily skin.

Wilbur wasn’t as easily dismayed nor was he distracted as easily. Instead, he specifically waited for the action to die down. For Ranboo to think that he was in the clear for his little white lie. And right before he was about to retire for the night - right when he was safe, Wilbur had called him into his office.

So here he was, sitting in a perfectly sized red chair, too comfy to be relaxed in with Wilbur, barely holding a smile.

The human opens his intelligent brown eyes, sharpened like an eagle as he serves the prince in front of him. His smile drops and he sighs, rubbing his temple. He leans back on his chair, draping his shoulder over the head of it, “I assume he’s not a threat if you’re willing to hide the fact that he was in your house for a reason.”

Wilbur tilts his head to the right, placing a hand to his cheek, “I mean, I feel as if I have a right to worry about whoever is in _my_ territory and why he was in your house, huh?”

“I…” Ranboo looked down at his feet, shuffling it and letting it shift against one another. He bites his lower lip. Wilbur gave him a place to stay so he should at least repay the favor with honesty. But then this was Eret, he wasn’t sure how he’ll handle the news that he was about to house a future fugitive that was planning to murder him.

And Eret was just someone who was lost - he can’t just give him out, even though technically he knew absolutely nothing about him. Something just didn't seem right to give someone away for the sake of it, when he knows ( _hopes_ ) Eret wouldn’t be a threat to them.

But this was Wilbur’s home. One that he made from the ground up. Of course he would get overprotective about it, worried even. With this barely contained malice laced behind his eyes. And he knows, knows that he wouldn’t be losing anything. So technically, it would be okay if he just told him.

It’s not like he’s going to lose anything.

But he _can’t_ bring himself to do that.

He balls up his fists, resting on the very edge of his knees. He can’t look up, his eyes are staring directly at him and it makes him very anxious. It makes him want to get up and scream, it makes him want to rip out his hair, so he resorts to looking down at his hands.

“Ranboo.” The screeching of the chair gives it away that Wilbur is walking around the table and walking towards him with a set of determination. His feet drag against the floor, a steady beat that he finds himself listening to.

“I’m not- I just....” Ranboo finds himself rising slowly, wary of him approaching, he can’t bring himself to look up. 

Was he going to kick him out for keeping a secret?

A hand on his shoulder, firm and warm, it feels slightly constricting. He finds himself lowering his head, he’s towering above him.

“Is he telling you to keep a secret? Is he threatening you?”

“...huh?”

The hand on his shoulder slips away and he finds himself being drawn into a warm and comforting hug. His head is tucked against the nation’s leader’s chest and there’s a hand crushing his head against it, carefully threading through his hair.

His voice was a smooth baritone, speaking lowly at him as his fingers mindlessly threading through his silky hair. A low hum in his throat, “If you’re being threatened, Ranboo, it’s okay. I promise, nothing can hurt you here.”

“That’s not…” Ranboo feels his face heating up, from this amount of contact he had. He isn’t one for hugs, usually that was Bad’s thing, where he would hug them and give them the sweets he made. And even though he was above, he found himself missing those hugs and sugary treats. 

He’s been up here for nearly half a year now, not really coming close to comfort or anything - so being in Wilbur’s embrace felt so warm and comforting, he couldn’t help but melt into it. The thing about his hugs were that his hugs were warm, firm and reassuring. Like nothing was going to go wrong.

“He’s not a threat.” Ranboo reassures him, in a slight whisper, returning the hug.

* * *

As he goes on with his day, he can see him in the corner of his eyes. Hiding behind the bark of the tree did not make him invisible, and leaving a large dirt trail did nothing in hiding it. Eret was always peering at him nervously, looking behind a tree when he was taking a walk down the forest.

He’s not sure what makes him stand out more, maybe it was his dual hair because Eret was always there?

Eret was pretty tall and painfully thin, under the baggy black hoodie and sweats. He sticks out like a sore thumb too - he wonders if he;s aware of that. But he knows that he was painfully thin. So thin and skinny, he wasn’t eating enough.

Ranboo supposes that having two very blant colored dual hairs would make him stand out more, since he was in the middle of a grassy field, picking apples from trees and ‘accidently’ leaving some behind certain trees, where he knows Eret would be.

Was he a father now? Letting this… human trail after him and leaving scraps for him to eat? Was it enough? He can’t get that feeling of his bones under his clothing and how light he seemed.

It felt… painful.

Was this what a father was like?

Honestly, he has no idea, but if the kid was eating, then he had no complaints. Next time, Ranboo closes his eyes, swinging the apple basket over his shoulder, he lets his eyes fall over to Eret again, peeking out just behind a tree.

He’ll bring pork.

* * *

Ranboo has to remember that he’s dealing with an adult, he’s nineteen and he should treat Eret like an adult.

But seeing Eret like this, very small and crouched over his food, as if he was afraid something would snatch it away from him. It just broke his heart. If he had one.

They were in the field, safely tucked away from everyone - so there was no way they could be interrupted.

He had packed a basket of food, good warm food he cooked himself. A pork sandwich, some orange juice, chicken salad, beetroot soup and some cookies Niki had cooked for the whole town.

They introduced one another, when he was spreading the blanket for the flooring, when Eret had approached him like a small scared animal. It was such a drastic difference.

He shouldn’t get attached. Wouldn’t the memories be harder to bear had they stayed? He’s doing something taboo right here, changing a future for something better - and he knows - he knows that it’s wrong.

But he wants to.

It felt good to have a burning memory again, to have something, other than his name and his status.

It’s a bit sad, isn’t it? He knows exactly how these people, fragile humans, would die. Small and soft. They had such a short life spand and he wishes he could be happy when he sees them smile. But the fact that he knows when and how exactly they’ll die - it stays permanent in his head.

Because in a way, this historic event he was living in always had such a big emotional impact on him.

He smiles as sweet as he can when he hands Eret another piece of strawberry jam toast and watches as his dark shades sparkle from the sunlight. The tall adult was soon to be a king, royalty and not binded to a contract with Wilbur.

He had no loyalty, he was simply a worker, someone who worked for Wilbur. Ranboo hopes, by him introducing him to Wilbur, that he’ll have at least one emotional bond with someone.

And he doesn’t mind if he alters the future for it.

* * *

“You’re…” Niki whispers quietly, clenching her fist as Wilbur looks outside the window, at L’manberg. He’s dressed in his uniform, looking away from her direction, as Niki stands before his desk with a shaking fist, “You’re replacing me with… Tommy?”

The large plain clock ticking above the window just ticked her off more. She’s glaring at him openly across. She wasn’t expecting this, if she was being honest. Niki was just doing her rounds when she was called to Wilbur’s office unexpectedly.

She had smiled at him and asked him what he was having trouble with when he dropped that bomb on her.

Out of all people. Why him?

It’s not like he had anything against Tommy, but he was a child. He had no idea how the hell the nation worked, she built that nation! She helped so why!? Why was she being replaced?

“I’m not doing that, Niki, please, don’t put words in my mouth.” Wilbur turns around swiftly, placing both hands on the desk as he looks at her, hopefully, hoping that she would understand, “You’ve just lost your grandmother and I know you’re grieving. So I though-”

“You thought I was a liability?”

No. She knows exactly what it was. Philza and Techno were a father and son duo, and he knew that Wilbur looked at Tommy like he was his son, despite the fact that Fundy was right there. He’s not sure why he had to bring her dead grandmother into this, she was grieving in her own way.

In the end, it was always his own insecurities that ran this country better than him. He hated the idea where he was weaker, in any way. He liked feeling tall, like he had power.

“Niki, please!” Wilbur interrupts, shaking his head vehemently, “That’s not what I’m saying! It isn’t the matter that you’re not capable, you’re one of the bravest women to ever help me build the nation! You are never a liability.”

Niki likes to think of him as a good man still. He was always there when she lost her parents, lost her dog and her grandmother. Offered her time off, but never in a million years had she thought she was being replaced with a child out of all things.

A child who was just as bad as him, obsessed with scamming people and pulling pranks.

The worst part is that she knows that she’s just angry. That the feeling of dissatisfaction towards Tommy was just her projecting her overwhelming fury, onto anything to blame. Because she knows that he was a good kid, always checking in or helping out, although the brat wouldn’t admit it.

But she can’t contain it. It drives her mad, riding against her senses and leaning towards all the bad things he had done.

“Then what?” Niki rips off her badge, throwing it harshly onto the table with a sharp clang. It skips near his feet, rolling down his heel. She looks up at him, with the fury of a storm in her brown eyes, her hair flies with the motion, creating a fire like around her to represent her rage, “You’re basically replacing me! You’re making Tommy into a vice-president!”

“I can’t-” Wilbur winches sympathetically as Niki slams her fist down on the table, “I can’t just run a country by myself, Niki, I still need a vice-”

“I can-”

“Niki!” Wilbur shouts, interrupting her and watching silently as her mouth closes slightly, a scowl still playing on her lips, “You’re not. You’re tearing yourself apart, I can see it.”

She narrows her eyes. Seriously? She wasn’t falling apart. She was just as guilty of him having an urge to keep her prideful walls up. She was so determined to not show any flaws, to be a perfect vice-president.

And yet, it seemed like she was being replaced.

The blond tilts her head, scoffing in bitterness. She pulls back her fist, pulling it to her side, “You aren’t me.” She says breathly, evenly as she keeps his gaze, “Don’t pretend you need a reason to replace me. It’s fine, isn’t it? Just let Tommy help you, see what I care about it. I’m… I’m taking a break.”

It hurts. It really does. Jealousy curls around her, envious of the men she’s surrounded by, and their privileged standing. It would be different if she were born a man, wouldn’t it? Maybe then, she wouldn’t have to struggle so hard just to prove her worth.

Tommy was a man. And she wasn’t.

She stumbles back like she had been shot in the foot. She might have well been, with how much this stings. She looks angrily at the floor, feeling her nails cause dents in her skin, “I’ll be back within a week.”

“There’s always a spot for you at L’manberg.” He can’t even look at her now.

_Good._

She turns and leaves.

* * *

“Why not get citizenship for L’manberg?” Ranboo finds himself blurting out one day, after nearly a month of sneaking away and having a daily picnic with Eret. The said adult looks up at him, mindlessly shoving a cookie in his mouth as the prince leans back and stares at the cloudy skies.

“Why?” The human made a disgusted face at him, “I don’t want to be tied down.”

“You don’t have to.” Ranboo is aware of his tail flicking back and forth, it’s tip hangs like bananas from a tree, “It’s meant to be a free nation, where no one has to fall back to any routines.”

“...What are you?”

“Huh?” Ranboo blinks at him, watching as Eret reaches forward, taking in his tail gently in his hands. He swings it around for a moment, watching it swing and waiting for Eret to continue.

“I don’t hear it anywhere. I tried getting records for you, but you just don’t exist. No one mentions your tail or your different hair colors at all, but you’re clearly not human.”

“Oh! I know!” Ranboo grins at him, stupidly with all his teeth. His tail darts back to his side, curling around him, “I made sure to hide it all! I’m just a traveler.”

“Traveler…” Eret doesn’t have an expression under those eyes and even then, he’s not sure if he could handle the dead glare he gives him, “Yeah right, you’re a resident of L’manberg. You’re not a traveler anymore, so what were you before?”

“I’m a beast, I guess?” Ranboo places a finger on his chin, thinking thoroughly, “I was born as a beast, so I gues…”

…

Ranboo feels himself slowly drift away, feeling his thought run past him like a roaring freight train. He forgets what he’s about to say. He can feel the alarm that ripples through Eret, as he abruptly looks up when he stops speaking.

“I…” Ranboo raises his hand and buries his head into it, “... I forgot what I was about to say, haha.” He forces the laugh out, looking bitterly to the side. He takes full advantage over the fact that Eret couldn’t see his facial expressions that well.

“Do...do you do that often? Forget?” Eret asks softly, reaching out and placing his hand on Ranboo’s free one, which was curled up into a tight fist, resting against his knee.

_“Anterograde amnesia. I’ve had it all my life and I forget everything so easily. The only time I can keep a memory is when it’s important and emotional. I don’t want to forget you. I don’t want this to go away. I don’t want this to be a fading memory - where I’m stuck on my identity and my status.” He wants to say, he wants to be honest._

“Bad memory.” Ranboo says instead, a bubble of laughter nervously in his chest, chuckling as he places his fingers near his mouth, wanting to cover it from the lies he’s just spoken. He doesn’t like cursing, he doesn’t like lying, yet here he was. Using the first excuse that comes to mind.

“I lie like that too. I’m… really bad at seeing things. It’s hard to see things, but I can tell colors apart.” Eret supplies a small smile, his thumb caresses Ranboo’s own gently, as if coaxing him into a more relaxed positioning, “So it’s okay! If it helps, I won’t forget you. I promise.”

The brown haired male leans forward, his dark sunglasses clang against his chest but he’s still being hugged awkwardly from the side. He feels warm here.

Ranboo sighs, resigned to his fate.

* * *

Eret joins their little family.

Niki left L’manberg.

Tommy is the new vice-president.

Fundy drags the prince to go fishing with him.

Ranboo thinks it’s an awful idea.

* * *

He tries.

He really does.

But when he wakes up with frost over the windows with a stuffy nose and a high fever, he literally cannot do anything but sniffle misberaly in bed. Ranboo knew that the temperatures up here were drastically changing, but he never thought it was up to this degree. 

It’s almost the day for the awakening of Jesus. 

But here he was, holding his red mug with red mittens, sipping hot cocoa with marshmallows with a 135 degree fever. A good chunk above normal temperatures for humans but they didn’t need to know that. He stares longingly out the window, where he can see the plush white snow falling from the sky.

(Ash was falling on that day, not snow. Stop getting them mixed up.)

...What the hell was he doing?

Why the hell was he just- 

Ranboo lets out a frustrated roar, holding his head as he places the mug into the sing. He marches over to his bedside. He yanks open the drawer, pulling out his notebook he always keeps beside him in the bed - so he doesn’t lose it.

He’s always been guilty with his sin, Sloth. It’s so easy to just sit back and pretend that he was doing something, by being here when he was nowhere close to stopping Dream.

Inside, there were scribbles on everyone’s relationships and a smily face at the end.

Dream.

Dream the god of nature.

The story went like this: Dream was just that. A sleeping manifestation of everyone’s rotting nightmares, insecurities and hopeless inspirations crushed in an instant. Rolling together by the rules of nature, an abomination that didn’t fit in hell or heaven. Instead, it remained here, asleep by… god knows what.

Dream was moldable by nature, often taking dreams or nightmares and awakening every hundreds of years to lead to detoxification. Nature takes its course, wanting to complete it the best he can.

Everyone’s hidden nature, all the bad things.

L’manberg was buried right on top of that sacred land, unknowingly allowing everyone’s insecurities and dead dreams rolling in it.

And the worse part is that it works to complete the dead dreams, the everlasting inspirations and insecurities into one. It doesn’t stop.

His eyes fall over to the notebook, looking at the three bullet points to understand what he has to do now:

  * Fundy and Wilbur relationship needs to be repaired. Make bonding time for them. Fishing? No. Maybe sewing? Or cooking?



  * Help Tommy be less prideful. It leads to the insecurity of never being enough. This strengthens Dream’s ambition to fulfill his ambitions.



  * Contact Philza and Techno. They can’t be gone for this.



Ranboo wants to hope that combining all of them as a tightly knitted family might ease Dream’s desire to see the nation burn. Most of this happened because of Wilbur’s pride, this inferiority complex that always keeps building. And the eventual downfall of a nation because that would be the point where he had given up entirely.

After he saw his whole nation being taken right under him by his best friend, Schlatt.

Ranboo sighs heavily, burying his face behind the book. Honestly, if he could live here, in L’manberg, making all of these memories worth it, in remembering without any outside threats, he would love it. But he’s aware that he can’t do that.

If there was no conflict at all, then he wouldn’t be here in the first place.

So he grabs a quill and some ink and begins writing.

Maybe he’ll make a good plan this time.

**Author's Note:**

> :3c I'm so tired bros. I never written this much for a story for nearly four days, 2-5 hours a day, of grinding this out. So if you have any theories, thoughts or ideas, I'd love to hear about them! Or any comments or anything, I'm thankful for. This series may take longer to update, due to the sheer amount and the fact that I'm also still writing two other stories. Been getting back into the grind. But nonetheless, I'm glad you enjoyed it to read this far!
> 
> If you're confused, I'll add a little summary of what happened in each installment:
> 
> Ranboo is a prince of hell, sent down to try to prevent a tragedy happening. He finds himself loving those who he has an interaction with and strives to create a safe place before Dream, a slumbering god, wakes up and destroys everything. However, he isn't the perfect protagonist, as he often forgets what he's doing, why he's doing it. He doesn't have a good relationship with his family - but he doesn't let himself dwell on it. He rather let bygones be bygones. He still despises water when it gets on him, viewing it as something extremely uncomfortable but not burning.
> 
> Niki used to be the vice president but got replaced by Tommy due to Wilbur's pride. Wilbur strives for Philza's and Techno's attention. Techno is afraid of breaking a promise he had earlier to Wilbur of always protecting him. They're both embodiments of the blood god, although Wilbur is human and Techno is a Demigod. It's implied that Wilbur is more than what meets the eye.
> 
> Philza is strangely detached from Wilbur but favors Techno for whatever reason.
> 
> Eret was a nearly blind street urchin who, in the past, had absolute no attachments to L'manberg. Only viewing it as a shelter, therefore viewing it okay to betray. However, due to Ranboo being a part of the it, he grows attached to it with Ranboo, viewing it as home.
> 
> Tommy is a prideful kid who doesn't understand the meaning of being sorry. He wants to be like Wilbur, following his steps into the chaos that will lay. Ranboo hopes to change Tommy's way of life, even by a little bit. At least for him to know his mistakes. 
> 
> Tubbo is just there. I didn't give him anything yet, please don't kill me, I'm already working on the second installment. Which will... also have no Tubbo and Ranboo friendship points.


End file.
